


Venus, Mars, et cetera

by Odile (Odileheroin_e)



Series: Unfinished Works - not finished and probably never will be [3]
Category: Rome (TV 2005)
Genre: (a really twisted one at that), (eehhh kind of but not explicit), Forced Feminization, Forced Marriage, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odileheroin_e/pseuds/Odile
Summary: Unfinished Works #4: a pretty strange AU that popped into my head for some reason: what if Antony had to marry Octavian instead of Octavia?





	Venus, Mars, et cetera

**Author's Note:**

> as I am contractually obliged to remind you: this is an UNFINISHED WORK. I am publishing this because I did do work for this, and I'd like to share that work too. unfortunately, I just ran out of creativity fuel to finish this. I hope you'll enjoy this poor ficlet regardless.
> 
> so this was originally meant to start as a strangely comical "match made in hell"-type of thing which was to gradually escalate into non-con pwp. well, this is all that remains. the idea, however, never left me and I felt like it's worth sharing, so here it is.

The situation would have been outrageously hilarious if the air had not been tense with Mark Antony’s wrath. He stood there, his hand in Octavian’s, his expression a soldierly repressed disgust. 

“There, where you are Gaia, I am Gaius.” 

Octavian stopped there, and even without looking at one another they both knew what was expected of Antony. He felt the stares on his back, and at that moment his anger and resentment surged and bent their beastly backs, his face contracted momentarily to something beyond ordinary hatred and he began: 

“I w–“ 

Octavian took a tighter grip of Antony’s hand to remind him of something previously arranged, and Antony stopped. He closed his eyes and silently cursed Octavian by all of the Dii Consentes, feeling the intense desire to throw him to the ground, beat him unconscious, run up to the mountains and burn down the peninsula before letting him capture him again. He bit his lip till he tasted blood and muttered something about Gaia under his breath. 

“Louder.” 

Octavian was still not looking at him, he could see it in the corner of his eye. The priest looked at him expectantly. 

“…there… where you are Gaius, I am… _Gaia_ _._ ” 

The priest turned his back at the couple and Octavian stood still as a statue. Antony was almost literally boiling with rage. 

“You will regret this, I will make so fucking sure of that.” 

Octavian did not seem to register the threat. 

 

* * *

 

Atia and Octavia were both present in the wedding, but Atia did not talk to either of the newlyweds for quite a long time. Octavia spoke with Octavian, but the exchange was brief and agitated. After the conversation she passed Antony, and the only words she said to him were “Welcome to our world.” Antony did not know how to respond.  

 

* * *

 

Octavian stood at the bed chamber door, again rigid as a pillar. Antony fumbled with his robes with his grim eyes locked to the sheets, only one thought distinct in his mind: _I will not let him._ I’ll have Pluto take me before I will let him to. He might sleep in _the_ _same_ _fucking bed_ with me, but he won’t _fucking_ touch me. 

“It is our wedding night after all”, Octavian began, not a hint of passion in his voice.   
“Fuck the wedding and fuck this fucking night! I’ll not fuck you, and you’ll not fuck me and that’s the end of it. Gaius and Gaia, my arse…”   
“I would not like to force you.” 

Antony froze; a hateful grin ripped up wide on his face. He turned his head and raised his eyebrows, in a mocking question: 

“Force me?” He paused. “ _You?_ ” Pure contempt and extreme amusement reeked of the word, and he began to laugh, a deep and malicious chuckling. “Oh– I would like to see you _try._ That would give me a good reason to kick your _fucking arse_ till it fucking _splits_.” His laughter died and the contempt reigned over his features for a while – then his smug smirk crept back. “Come at me, then. Try me. Make me. Come on!” 

Then – Octavian insulted him in the gravest possible way. He _sighed._  

“Antony, we would not want you to get hurt. Do not do this.” 

Antony’s eyes widened; his breath quickened and heart flamed for revenge.    
“What did you little shit just –”   
“Go on.” Octavian’s response elicited a moment of angered confusion and a disdainful contraction of the face before darkness and numbness came in a heavy, blunt clunk. 

 

* * *

 

From the eternity of the heavy slumber, an ache pierced through. Antony frowned at the pain instinctively, and in the next moments the dawn of the following facts came upon his heavy night: 

Someone was speaking, but not to him. Someone was touching him. His head ached strongly. Otherwise he felt almost good. He could not move his hands. 

The last realisation alarmed him enough to swim through the slumber and surface from the depths: his eyes flickered open. The dim light made him blink, his mind was still clouded by a haze.  

He was lying on the bed, the pillow comfortably cushioned under his head. Less comfortably, Octavian's hand was on Antony’s face, thumb gently rubbing his cheek and fingers tracing his ear. “…what the fuck are you doing?” Antony’s rough voice grunted.    
“Good, you are with us again. I was merely making sure that the servants would not spill the sedative.”   
“Have you poisoned me?”   
“Oh, no. This is simply done for your convenience. You won’t feel the pain.” 

Bringing up the word “pain” reminded Antony of their previous discussion and the alarming discovery of the immobility of his hands. He tugged at his bounds, which, he noticed now, were on the legs of the bed and did not budge. 


End file.
